


Thanks, Bobby

by Knischick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knischick/pseuds/Knischick
Summary: People do thank Bobby sometimes





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I've been radio silent for a while, and I'm probably going to still be very intermittent now. However I am going to attempt to write some more. I've noticed a pattern in my writing. If I do a one shot a few chapters on my other fics tend to follow. There's a longer Valentine's fic I've been working on on and off for about two years now that I would like to post this year. We'll see how that goes. Also I just did a show at school so I'm itching to work on my Tennessee Williams fic again.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Thanks again Bobby. You’re good people, you know that?” Karen sat across from him at her parents’ kitchen table. A plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sat between them. He was still covered in grease and she had a dusting of flour across the front of her dress. 

“Aw its nothin’.” He said, embarrassed by how intently she was watching him, and smiling at him like she’d found some shiny new penny. “I owe you for helping me with that algebra test last month.” 

“A little math help is nothing compared to picking a girl up off the side of the road and fixing up her car for her. You could have just kept driving, Jake and Alex did.” 

“What!?” He’d have to have a talk with those two. How could you leave someone stranded like that? 

“See, not everyone is a good Samaritan like you.” She slid her hand across the Formica table to squeeze his. “Let me wrap up some of these cookies for you.” 

It wasn’t until the next morning when he unwrapped the cellophane and the paper napkin from around the plate of cookies that he saw her note. _Me + U (4the fallformal) = (yes) or (no)_

He’d never been more sure about an answer to a math question in his life. 

* 

“Thanks Bobby. I hate to bother you with them, but Jim’s on some retreat and I can’t leave them with just anybody. Dean’s doing that whole no talking thing again and Sam’s on a growth spurt. Are you sure you can handle them?” 

He’d met the Winchester boys before of course. They got dragged along with their dad just about everywhere. But Sam was two now and John was handing them off to other people more and more often. 

“Sure I’m sure. How much trouble could they be?” 

For about three hours Dean had kept Sam close, silently glaring at Bobby, nodding or shaking his head at Bobby’s questions, or just allowing Sam to answer in the odd baby talk of all younger siblings who were used to the elder answering for them. Bobby didn’t know what it was that he did that caused him to pass Dean’s silent evaluation, but just a little after lunch Dean started asking questions, and generally just chatting away. Bobby was more than happy to talk to him even as he chased Sam around the house because Dean had decided Bobby was okay enough to deal with the kid himself. Bobby eventually got them settled at the table, Sam coloring and Dean pretending to read a manual for a ’62 Jeep. Nah, the Winchesters weren’t much trouble at all. 

* 

“Thanks for your cooperation Mr. Singer. We’ll review your statement and let you know if you’ll need to appear in court.” 

“No problem officer.” Bobby took a final swig of his beer. It had been a routine bar fight. But Clyde’s niece was brand new and a little twitchy so she had called the cops before anyone could break the guys up. Nobody was going to sue anybody that was for sure. The fresh faced cop standing before him was still low on the totem pole and thus had been sent out to deal with the rabble at Clyde’s Bar. He had a feeling he’d be seeing this Deputy Jody Mills around often. She had the do-gooder enthusiasm that would boil down to stone cold determination once she had a few years under her belt. She’d make a good hunter. Hell, maybe she’d even be Sheriff someday. He’d vote for her. 

A little over a week later him and Rufus were cuffed in the back of her cruiser for ‘disturbing the peace’. 

“And here I thought I was going to like you Singer.” She said gruffly, but her smile was fond. 

“What’s not to like?” Bobby grinned back at her. He was drunk, but for the first time in ages it had been purely in celebration. 

* 

“Thank you Bobby Singer.” 

Bobby looked up from the book of lore he was pouring over. Castiel wasn’t looking at him. Instead his gaze was on the two slumbering Winchesters – Sam on the couch, Dean on the floor. 

“What for?” 

Cas finally turned his head to him. “Taking care of them, raising them, loving them as your own. They would not be the men they are today without you.” 

Bobby eyed the trench coat wearing enigma in front of him. Ever since he had fallen cracks had formed in his icy angel persona and every day he started feeling more like some other dumb kid Bobby had to look out for. Last time the King of Hell had dropped by to bitch about his day, Crowley had referred to Cas as ‘your son in law’. Bobby figured that wasn’t too far off the mark. 

“Ya well, thanks to you too.” Bobby said. “For watchin’ out for them when I can’t and loving them however it is you do.” 

Cas just smiled and turned back to his vigil. Bobby chuckled and turned the page. 

* 

“This is a thank you, Robert.” Crowley slid the whisky across the table. “Don’t get used to it.” 

“What’s this about?” Bobby set down his pen, but didn’t take his reading glasses off. Instead he grabbed the bottle and pulled it close to read the label. It wasn’t Crowley’s normal Craig. 

“Don’t you remember?” 

“Well, I probably wouldn’t be asking if I did, now would I?” 

“It’s been one year since we started our weekly Tuesday Night Tirades.” 

Bobby snorted. “You call them that?” 

“I just came up with that right this moment.” Crowley smirked as he eased himself into the chair next to Bobby’s. 

“Sure ya did.” Bobby went to the cabinet to grab glasses. “So if this is an anniversary present of sorts than why did you call it a thank you?” 

“To thank you for putting up with me.” Crowley pulled the cork from the bottle with flourish and poured the amber liquid into the tumblers set in front of him. 

“It’s been a chore.” Bobby grumbled with a smile. “You bitch an awful lot.” 

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.” Crowley quipped as he handed Bobby his drink. “Or the trucker cap as the case may be.” 

“Cheers’ to that.” Bobby said.


End file.
